


Intuitive

by Yunimori



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Short One Shot, Touch-Starved, Touching, Touchy-Feely, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunimori/pseuds/Yunimori
Summary: Writing Prompt from TumblrSometimes you just need to be touched, regardless of what time it is.





	Intuitive

**Author's Note:**

> I'm copying all of my Shockwave and Optimus/Shockwave ficlets and drabbles from my tumblr accounts over to my ao3 account. Most of these are going to be incredibly short (hence the drabble tag), and either in short-form format or 100 Themes Challenge format.
> 
> This is just for my own peace of mind, making sure they are safe from tumblr's random purges.
> 
> However, feel free to read them and let me know if you enjoyed them!

As seamless as the transition from day to night. That was the analogy he wanted to use, but he didn’t currently have the words for it. Or rather, felt he should _speak_ them. Not now. Not when Pax was doing this.

His glasses had broken again, and Pax had taken him home. Had come and gotten him, actually, from the hallways of the Academy where he was stranded, and instead of guiding him back to his little corner room in the dormitories, he had taken him out the front doors and all the way to _his_ flat. 

Pax said it was just so he could make sure Shockwave made it safely to the optometrist in the morning, to get a new pair, but his hands said differently once they were inside, safely out of view of camerabots and whatever other prying eyes may have noticed them on the street again. 

He always was so gentle. Shockwave didn’t need to see to know that his Endura’s expression matched the touch of his hands along Shockwave’s back; gentle and loving, almost hesitant for fear of going too far, of crossing some line that Shockwave didn’t know about. He didn’t think there were lines to cross, and he’d told Pax as such, many times, but still his gentle giant, his _Peace_, moved slowly and carefully. 

Honestly, Shockwave only loved him more for it. Unseeing, not needing to, he had spread his wings for Pax to play with, feeling large, but easy fingers splay over the thin membranes, rubbing gently over his wing arms until they got to his shoulders, pressing in those sensitive spots that made Shockwave simultanteously want to melt and kiss Pax and forget about breathing all at once. 

His own hands found their way to Pax’s neck, rubbing at tension in brawny shoulders that should have never felt that tense to begin with. Pax didn’t need that stress, shouldn’t _feel_ that stress. Shockwave didn’t need to see to know it was there, though. He could feel it even without his hands giving him their sporadic input. Pax didn’t need that, and so he worked at it, resisting only a little against the touch of his wings, so he would have the presence of mind _to_ do something about it, and eventually, he was rewarded with a soft grumble and a relaxing, Pax tilting with him on the couch just a bit more. 

He felt his Endura’s hands stutter in their movement against his wings, sending a little electric thrill up his spine, and he smiled. The move from care to love really _was_ a seamless transition.

And Shockwave woke up. The tingle up his spine was real, as was the hand against his back. It was dark, they were in bed, and it was some six million years later. They were both much older. Much wiser. Much more scarred. Much…sadder, in some ways. Life had been entirely too cruel to the both of them, and was only now trying to repay some of that cruelty with kindness.

But Pax’s fingers against his wings were still gentle, even in sleep, and Shockwave moved just a little closer to his Endura, his own hands reaching for the little hollows at Op’s collarbones without needing to see where they were, he’d done it so many times. He felt Op relax against him, grumbling softly in his sleep; wordless murmurs that spoke of love and a life meant to live together. Shockwave knew it without words, knew it as surely as the large hand against his back was gentle and kind, knew it as surely as he knew his own fingertips had found the sweet spots against Op’s collar when he felt his Endura start clicking softly, little love-sounds that never failed to thrill Shockwave. There was love there, in every little movement and every little sound; there was no need for conscious acknowledgement. Shockwave just _knew_, even as he drifted back to sleep, lulled by Op’s breath and quiet rumbles, held close in a loving embrace that hadn’t needed wakefulness to happen. It never had.


End file.
